Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who trained himself not to
What he seems to have seen was a of everything
been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
And he only exists in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his work; scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an where the man paints himself painting himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the only way he make himself real
Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare
But until about ten years ago, it didn't
It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the
He ran on top of it in to reach a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but touch his destination
Which him much frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene a bird's eye
Only to witness his body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead body laying on the
At first it freaked him out, but a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his light
And it goes on and on like space and time, nothing odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he didn't approve of God
His was one I couldn't comprehend
'Till I stopped being and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting told his whole life story
It was then that he knew he was the art of
He once saw a painting that told his whole story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He for himself and not the rest of humanity
He once saw a painting that his whole life story
And I realize I'm not real
God just me

like I said
About ten years ago, the event that his whole reality
Took place on his monthly to the local art gallery
It was where he studied his contemporaries
And there he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a very day
The was almost empty
And he got down his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a that looked familiar
And he got close, his heart stopped
cause he saw it was a of his dream
It was a painting of his
His body on a
By a ladder to an airplane with its spinning
Which accounted for the loud
The match up was
And that was the day he stopped believing in
He resented his
I mean, words explain
What must went on in his brain while he stared into a frame
Of a work of art he created and was at the same time
The mind can't handle that much, it's insane
It's like reading a book where each words describe thoughts
And in quotations, it reads you say when you talk
You think it happen
But it did
I guess there's surprisingly wide cracks in each life's
He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a
And decided to dreaming to maintain his mental health
Now he hardly talks to
Just stays in his
Writing infinity, by painting
Painting
This is a universe
Is it all just a
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really something a intelligence made up?
A figment of imagination colored by a cosmic
Maybe all of our art creates the fate of beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were gods
blindly
Just a
I know what it means
But that's the story of the man who trained not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his life story
He witnessed the paradox of the "existing"
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn't
He once saw a painting told his whole life story
The variable that all that is is art
And when I close my eyes, I see as a story
A God imagined the God imagined me
And I am God
And so on